The Winchester Sisters: Changing Channels
by Isobel Morgan
Summary: What would Supernatural have been like if it had been about sisters instead of brothers? An adaptation of my favourite episode, featuring Tara and Alexis Winchester, and a genderswapped Trickster.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so first off, this is never going to be as funny as the episode – which is one of my absolute favourites - so I'm not even going to try! But I hope it's still amusing. It's not an exact version either, as I've changed most of the shows-within-a-show and genderswapped some of the other characters along with the Winchesters.

For anyone who hasn't read the previous 'sisters' stories: Dean is Tara, and Sam is Alex and their backstory is virtually the same

* * *

 **Changing Channels**.

 **1.**

Another day, another job. Another shitty motel.

Alexis Winchester sighed, checking her reflection again in the tiny, cracked bathroom mirror. This motel wasn't actually all that bad, compared with some places she'd spent the night. At least there was hot water; it made trying to pass as an FBI agent that much harder when you hadn't been able to shower for days on end, or had been forced to sleep in the car.

Still, this case looked interesting. Weird, but hopefully the more 'usual' kind of weird they could actually deal with. You know, no Horsemen of the Apocalypse, no Antichrist, no monsters pretending to be Paris Hilton. That would be good.

She went back into the room, where her similarly suited sister was perched on the edge of the bed, watching TV. Alex frowned.

"What the hell are you watching?"

Tara started, guiltily, quickly switching the channel, but it was too late.

"I know you spent the day as an eighty-year-old recently, but-"

"Oh shut up, Lexie. I was just channel-surfing."

"I mean, if you're gonna watch a talk show, you could at least watch Ellen. What was that, anyway?"

"I dunno. HRT in programme form. You ready?"

"Uh-huh."

Tara got up, surreptitiously checking her figure in the full-length mirror on the wall before heading out. She thought Alex hadn't noticed, but since the experience of being aged fifty years by a magic spell, Tara had been a lot more bothered about wearing bras.

* * *

The town Sheriff didn't seem best pleased to have 'FBI agents' turn up, asking a load of questions and generally making his day harder work than he'd have liked. But the Winchesters were more than used to that.

"So you don't think it's strange, one of your locals getting his head ripped off?" Tara was asking.

The sheriff shrugged, far more complacent about the incident than you might expect.

"Where the Randolphs live, way up in high country? It's pretty wild up there. You get bears. Things happen."

The sisters absorbed this.

"Things like... a bear chasing Mr. Randolph through the woods, smashing through his front door, following him up the stairs, and killing him in his own bedroom?"

Tara raised her eyebrows.

Sheriff McDonald shrugged again, reaching for the coffee pot.

"Like I said, it's pretty wild up there."

"And... you're sure it was a bear?" Alex asked.

"Well, what else could it be?"

"Never ask that question," Tara muttered.

"And the wife?" Alex tried to keep the conversation on track.

"She witnessed the whole thing?"

The sheriff wouldn't meet their gaze.

"Look, Kathy Randolph went through a hell of a trauma. She's confused. The last thing this town needs is for same crazy story to start circulating about - aw, never mind it."

Both women's ears pricked up.

"Never mind what?"

* * *

Despite all Sheriff McDonald's protests, Alex and Tara soon managed to secure an interview with the grieving widow in one of the station's interview rooms. Confused, she certainly was, but not in the way the sheriff had said.

"I know, I know, it's crazy. It's impossible, I must have imagined the whole thing," she burst out, before they could even ask a question.

"But I know what I saw."

"And that was?" Alex asked.

"Well, it wasn't a bear. But what's the point? You won't believe me either."

"Try us."

Tara leaned forward, her interest piqued.

Kathy Randolph hesitated, defensive.

"It was the Incredible Hulk, okay? My husband was murdered by the Incredible Hulk."

A brief silence greeted her words. That... was a new one. Whatever Tara and Alex had been expecting her to say, it wasn't that.

"You mean... the big green guy?" Alex wrinkled her nose. "From the movies?"

"No, the TV Hulk."

"Lou Ferrigno?"

Tara looked genuinely interested in this development.

"That's the guy. Big. Green. Angry."

"Lou Ferrigno killed your husband?"

Kathy Randolph folded her arms, sitting back.

"I said you wouldn't believe me."

"I wouldn't say that." Tara was almost enjoying herself. "We've heard weirder, if you can believe that."

"Really?"

Mrs Randolph seemed quite pleased to have found someone who didn't laugh in her face when they heard her story.

"We're sort of... specialists in weird stuff," Alex added.

There was another question Tara had to ask, one she'd never imagined anyone would, ever.

"Was there any reason why Lou Ferrigno would want to kill your husband?"

Kathy Randolph sighed, heavily.

"This sounds kind of heartless... I mean, he was my husband, but... he kind of had it coming."

"How's that?"

"Look, Bill and I... we haven't been love's young dream for a while, you know? And Bill... well, he hit me. More than once. Went to court and everything. And not just that. He used to get in fights whenever he went out in town, bar brawls mostly, but enough to get him put on one of those anger management courses. Not that they did much good."

Her audience took this in, considering the implications.

"So... you wouldn't like him when he's angry?" Tara asked.

Alex rolled her eyes, but Kathy Randolph seemed perfectly serious.

"Yeah, that's what that other woman said."

Both Winchesters sat up, alert.

"What woman?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I was in the store a few days ago and this lady saw my bruises-"

Kathy pulled up her sleeves, displaying four fingertip marks on each forearm, where her husband had grabbed her.

"We started talking, and she said it sounded like Bill needed to be taught a lesson."

The sisters exchanged a glance, a horrible suspicion starting to dawn.

"Is that exactly what she said?"

"Yeah. Something about Bill getting his just desserts."

"This woman... was she by any chance buying a bunch of candy?" Tara asked, leaning forward intently.

Kathy frowned.

"Now you mention it, yeah, she did have a handful of candy bars. Though I don't remember her actually paying for them."

Tara got to her feet, abruptly.

"Thanks for your time, Mrs Randolph. You've been very helpful."

She left the room immediately, Alex scrambling to follow her.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Tara asked, grim faced.

"Just desserts... has a sweet tooth, likes to screw with people before she kills them."

Alex didn't have to think too hard to put two and two together.

"So we're dealing with the Trickster."

"Yup. About freaking time we ran into that bitch again. You know, I try to make it a rule to gank anything that kills me even once, and she sure put that to the test at Mystery Spot."

But Alex was pensive.

"Tara, hold up. Are you sure killing her is the best thing here?"

Tara came to an immediate halt in the corridor, staring at her sister in utter disbelief.

"Are you serious? _She_ iced _me_ about a thousand times, remember? Long overdue a little payback."

"That's not what I mean."

Alex was thinking hard.

"I mean, yeah, you're right but... she's powerful. One of the most powerful creatures we've ever met. Maybe we can put that to use."

"You wanna hand out a little more poetic justice before we end her? We don't have the time, Lexie, and I sure don't have the patience."

"No, not that. I mean, look at the bigger picture. The Trickster likes the good life, she's not gonna be on the side of those who want to bring the party to an end, is she?

Tara was still staring incredulously.

"Wow. You're actually serious."

"Look, we have to start being creative, if we stand a chance stopping the world from ending."

"Do I have to remind you she just had the Incredible Hulk _rip a guy's head off_? What makes you think she'll play along?"

"I just think it's worth a try. If it doesn't work, then we'll kill her, okay?"

Tara sighed.

"The things I do for you. Okay, fine. We'll try."

* * *

It took the best part of the day for them to catch a glimpse of the Trickster again, this time a confused distress call over the police scanner that seemed to fit her MO. But when the Winchesters arrived at the scene, it was deserted.

"Oh goody," Tara remarked, sarcasm dripping from her words. "An abandoned warehouse. My favourite."

"And we got here before the police?" Alex added. "It just gets better and better, right?"

Tara pulled two stakes out of the trunk, tossing one over to Alex.

"Remember, if she tries to pull any of her usual shit, I'm staking her."

"So long as you let me talk to her first."

"I promise nothing, little sister."

They went into the warehouse.

* * *

Disclaimer: Nope, didn't invent Supernatural, or anything else in this, really. I've tried to choose shows that fit best with the episode, rather than necessarily shows I love, so some are a little 'safe'. Much as I'd have loved to do crazy sci-fi adventures or something, that might've been a step too far!

So I only picked American shows, and some are based more on research than actually watching them.


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

"What the hell-?"

Both women stopped dead in their tracks.

"This... is a police station."

They turned a complete 360°, staring open-mouthed. The single wooden door they had just walked through had transformed into two sets of green-edged, glass-panelled swing doors, and when they went back out through it, they were on a city sidewalk. The shabby warehouse's sagging walls were now a spotless brick and stone facade, with flags either side of the doors and the number '1854' above it.

Tara was instantly furious, more so when she realised their stakes were gone.

"What did I say about her pulling this kind of shit?"

"Where are we?" Alex was trying to get her bearings. "This looks familiar... have we been here before?"

"Well, it's not the station we were in before." Tara was still seething. "Can Tricksters teleport people?"

"I have no idea. Maybe. But why would she send us here? There has to be a reason why she picked here, right? I mean, if this whole thing was an ambush, she must have some particular plan."

Tara turned to the wall, banging her forehead against it in frustration.

"I can't do this again. I can't. We are killing her, Lexie. She is dead."

Alex was still staring at the front of the police station, frowning.

"Hey," she called out to a passer-by. "What is this place?"

He gave her an odd look.

"Boston Police Station."

"Boston?"

The sisters looked around again, then went back in.

"Is this real? Or did she put us in some made-up fantasy world?" Alex asked.

Tara didn't reply, too busy glowering and slamming doors.

"Detective!"

Both Winchesters ignored the uniformed cop who was trying to get their attention; Alex was looking around, trying to pick up a clue, Tara was looking for something to break, to relieve her frustration.

"Detective! They need you upstairs!"

The cop ran over to them, out of breath.

"Sorry Detective – excuse me Doctor – but I've been sent to find you. He's here, in the Interview room, like you asked?"

"What? Who is?" Tara snapped, irritable.

"Your prisoner. They're ready for you. You too, Doctor."

"Doctor?"

As the sisters turned to each other, they saw their clothes had subtly changed; they were still in their 'FBI' suits, but now Tara has a badge, a gun and handcuffs on her belt, and Alex's heels were higher, her skirt shorter and her hair longer, more styled.

"What in the name of all that's good and holy is going on?"

"She thinks this is funny?" Tara demanded. "Screwing with us, I get, but this? Does she really have nothing better to do?"

"Tara – your hands."

Alex had noticed another change, grabbing her sister's hands and turning them over – both sides were scarred, as if pierced right through.

"Well, that answers that question."

"What?"

"This isn't reality. We're in Rizzoli and Isles, and it looks like you're Jane Rizzoli."

Tara's brow furrowed even more.

"The cop show? On TV? Are you saying the Trickster put us in a TV show?"

Alex shrugged.

"Is it any more weird than a time loop? At least here we have some idea of what's going on, right?"

"I don't know, I never really saw it."

"Liar. I know you do – and don't just say it's cos you think the young detective guy in it's hot."

"Well, he is," Tara muttered as they made their way over to the elevator.

* * *

Tara was still pissed, even as they got to the interview room.

"I still don't get it. Why make some kind of alternative reality where a TV show is real, just to put us in it? What's the point?"

She rubbed at the scars on her hands – they felt real, and lord knows she had enough scars already.

"And who are you supposed to be?"

"The cop called me 'Doctor.' So I guess if you're Rizzoli, then I'm Isles."

"Fantastic."

The uniformed cop standing outside the room nodded at them both, opening the door. There were several other cops guarding the room, all heavily armed, and Alex got a twinge of doubt.

"I don't like the look of this..."

But by then, they were inside, and the prisoner smiled as he saw them.

"Ah... lavender and fear. I can always tell when it's you, Janey."

"Shit." That was Alex.

"Why, Doctor Isles, I never did. And I thought you were a lady."

"After what you did to my sis – my friend? You deserve a lot worse."

"You wanna cue me in?" Tara murmured to her sister, in an aside.

"That's Charles Hoyt," Alex whispered back. "Serial killer known as 'the Surgeon'. He gave you those scars."

Tara looked down at her hands again.

"Shit."

Her eyes narrowed.

"I think I got what this is now."

She turned back to the prisoner, who was watching them both very closely, an arrogant smile playing across his face.

"So, what do you want from me this time, girlies?"

"Well, you could try dropping dead. Save us the trouble of having to shove a stake through you."

"Uh, Tara-"

Alex unease was growing stronger, but Tara ignored her, lunging across the table to grab Hoyt by the throat. The suddenness of her unexpected move caught everyone by surprise.

"Rizzoli, what the hell are you doing?" This was the other detective, an older, grey-haired man in a suit.

Guns were drawn by the uniformed cops but Tara acted as if they weren't even there.

"So you got tired of killing me over and over, thought you'd try something new?"

Alex realised what Tara already had, even before everyone else in the room froze like the pause button had been pressed. Hoyt stopped choking and morphed before their eyes, shifting from a middle-aged man in an orange prison jumpsuit to a rather dumpy, dark-haired forty-something woman in an outrageous frock, an enormous grin on her heavily made-up face.

"You're getting smarter, darling."

She pronounced it 'dahling', using an affected, pseudo-European accent.

"I was hoping this little play of mine would run longer. I had _such_ plans."

"Sorry to disappoint – oh, wait. Really not."

Tara's face showed how little amusement she was getting from the situation.

"Get us out of this – whatever the hell 'this' is."

The Trickster was not intimidated.

"Or what? You'll stab me with those big wooden stakes you don't have anymore?"

Tara released her, face still like thunder.

"I'm willing to improvise. Wouldn't be the first time."

The grin on the Trickster's face got impossibly wider.

"That's my girl! Now you're getting it!"

"What?"

Tara was digging her nails into the new scars on her palms and Alex thought she'd better intervene – violence was unlikely to solve this, unfortunately.

"What is all this?" Alex looked around at the still frozen room.

"You've stuck us in a made-up cop show ?"

"You like?"

The Trickster got up, strolling around the room in shoes that would provoke Lady Gaga into a fatal fit of envy. She stroked her hand down the immobile face of Vince Korsak.

"I made everything myself. Down to the last detail."

"Um, why?"

She spun back around, flinging out her hands over-expressively.

"How could I resist? I find out my girls are in town... I got to work right away!"

"So... the call on the police scanner. That was you, too?"

"Of course. Have to lay bait for the trap. You two just _love_ to throw yourself into those, don't you?"

"And how do we get out of here?" Tara's jaw was clenched tight, trying to resist lamping the Trickster in the face, knowing it wouldn't do much good. Not in here.

"That, my darling girl, is the sixty-four million dollar question, isn't it?

"Before anyone incites an unrepentant act of wanton violence-" Alex stepped in.

"We need to talk."

The Trickster's grin dropped a few notches.

"Oh, don't be a party pooper. I know what _you_ want to talk about."

"If you know what I'm going to say," Alex gritted her teeth. "Then why don't you tell me what you think?"

"What I think? Well, let me see. You two dimwits managed to kickstart the end of the world, and you thought 'I know who'll help us fix it!' Guess you really were dropped on your heads a lot when you were children."

There was a tense, angry silence.

"Is that a no...?"

"It's a 'you've either got a far better sense of humour, or significantly less brains in that pretty head of yours than you let on.' But not exactly a no."

The grin came back.

"Tell you what. Survive the next twenty-four hours and we'll talk."

Neither sister liked the sound of that.

"Survive what?"

"The game!"

The Trickster made another grand theatrical gesture, taking in the room and station beyond.

"You caught on fast enough. Let's see how you fare now."

"Wait, what game? How do we-?"

But she was already gone.

"Oh for the love of-"

Tara kicked over the chair in front of her, turning away and slamming the heels of her hands into her temples.

"Uh, Tara-"

Alex had noticed what her sister hadn't - Charles Hoyt had reappeared, and then the room sprang back into life.

"So, what do you want from me this time, girlies?"

The scene had reset, as if the Trickster's unmasking had never happened.

This time, however, what tiny shred of patience Tara had left had vanished. In one swift movement, she span back around, her fist landing square on Hoyt's jaw, knocking him over backwards.

"You can drop dead and stop screwing with me!" she bellowed, vaulting over the table to pin the stunned man down, grabbing his shirtfront and shaking him.

Once again, the uniformed guards went for their guns, but Alex was quicker. She grabbed hold of Tara, yanking her off Hoyt and pulling her back.

"Rizzoli, what the hell?" Korsak was staring at them, open-mouthed.

"It's okay, I got this," Alex called, dragging her furious sister out of the interview room.

* * *

The door slammed behind them and Alex let Tara go. She immediately started stalking up and down the corridor, seething.

"Nice plan, Lexie. Talking with monsters? Nothing at all that could go wrong with _that_."

"We had to try. And she still might help us. Or... something."

"If we play along. Are you seriously suggesting we let her use us in this crazy-ass puppet theatre?"

"What else can we do? I don't think we can just walk out."

"That doesn't mean we have to do what she wants us to do."

Tara stopped pacing, leaning against the wall and slowing her breathing.

"It might not be as bad as last time," Alex risked.

"You mean I might not die constantly, over and over?" Tara snarked, her tone sour.

"You're not the one who actually remembers that," Alex pointed out, tersely.

"But I am the one it happened to. I'm not letting that bitch pull the strings again, not this time."

Alex thought about it. Thought about how watching her sister die repeatedly had been the worst thing she'd ever been through, and how the Trickster had known that. How that whole episode had pretty much been engineered just to labour that point, to teach Alex a lesson.

"Big Sister's your weakness, Alexis darling," the Trickster had said.

"The bad guys know it, too. It'll be the death of you."

But Alex also remembered that she'd had to go through that in order to get out the other side. There wasn't any other way. And knowing all that didn't change the way she felt and thought about her sister, as the Trickster knew it wouldn't.

"I don't think we have a choice, T. We have to at least give it a shot."

"Don't."

Tara turned back, pointing a finger accusingly.

"Don't you dare say 'what's the worst that could happen?' _Because she'll hear you!_ "

"I wasn't-"

But she didn't have to.

The sudden sounds of a fierce scuffle reached them from the interview room, followed by an astonishingly loud gunshot.

Startled, the Winchesters rushed back over to the door, only for it to open before they could reach it, revealing Charles Hoyt. He was no longer cuffed and he had an evil grin on his face and a gun in his hand.

Both sisters froze, Tara's hand on her hip where the holster sat. But even if she'd been able to get to it in time, it wouldn't have mattered; it was empty.

"Looking for this, Janey?"

Hoyt waggled the gun.

"So nice of you to get so close up. I'd never have been able to get this otherwise."

Tara realised he'd grabbed it when she was kneeling over him, trying to punch his lights out. Clearly, she'd underestimated this guy.

"What have you done?"

"I got tired of waiting for you to come back and finish our conversation. So I thought I'd hurry things along a little."

"What do you want?" Alex asked, trying to figure out the best way to distract him so she could get the gun.

"It's not about what I want, Doctor Isles," Hoyt turned his attention to her and Alex was horrified to see his eyes change colour, the blue giving way to an impossible Yellow.

"It's about what you want. You know, if we're gonna make a deal."

"What the hell...?"

The Winchesters stared, horror-struck.

"No, wait, you're dead. I killed you myself-"

Tara took a step forward, and Hoyt shot her.

* * *

In the narrow corridor, the sound of the shot was deafening and for a moment, Alex was too stunned to move. But then Tara crumpled to the ground, a bloodstain spreading across the front of her white shirt and Hoyt/Yellow Eyes was forgotten as she rushed to help her sister.

The cops from the interview room burst out, grabbing Hoyt and wrestling him away.

"This – feels pretty real to me," Tara gasped.

"Help me!" Alex screamed, turning Tara over to find the exit wound.

"Oh no." Korsak was at her side. "That bastard. Why can't he leave her alone?"

"We need a doctor!" Alex was frantic and Korsak gave her an odd look.

"Frost put a call in for a bus; it's on its way. But... you're a doctor."

Alex looked down at herself.

"Oh. Shit."

The uniformed cops carried a semi-conscious Tara into the autopsy room, laying her down on the table as Alex grabbed a white coat and started tearing her way through drawers.

"Not again. She's not dying this time, I won't let her. Where the hell is everything?"

"What do you need?"

Korsak had followed and was hovering behind her.

"Uh... scapel I guess. Needle and thread. Something antiseptic. Ah, here we go."

Alex found a drawer of implements, grabbed anything that looked useful and went back to the table, where one of the cops was carefully pulling Tara's bloodsoaked shirt away from the first wound.

"Looks like a clean through and through, which means I don't have to get the bullet out. But she's gonna go into shock soon. Hold her."

"Lexie, what're you doing?"

Tara was hazy, but she could see what was happening.

"This is what the Trickster wants, right? Us to be the characters she's put us in. I've got this."

"You sure?"

Alex hesitated, looking at the bloody wound.

"Yeah, I've got this."

"She couldn't have put us in 'Castle'?" Tara muttered, starting to drift again. "I'd've liked that better. Nathan Fillion's nice and easy on the eye."

"You keep thinking that. Cos... I don't have any anaesthesia."

Alex took a deep breath, and began.

* * *

Maybe because it wasn't, strictly speaking, real, Alex managed it. She knew how to patch people up, a bit, but without a hefty dose of antibiotics, this wouldn't be enough, in the real world. There were some times when you had to take a chance and go to hospital.

But Tara seemed okay, once Alex had sewn up the wound.

Korsak came back in.

"How's our patient, Doctor Isles?"

"Almost her usual self," Alex risked a smile.

"What happened to Hoyt?"

"They hauled him back to jail. With any luck, they'll stick another twenty years on for shooting a cop, and never agree to letting him out again, no matter what."

"Let's hope so."

There was a sudden, brief burst of music, seemingly from nowhere, and Alex frowned.

"What was that?"

"I didn't hear anything."

Alex turned around; from the other side of the glass door, an unexpected bright light had appeared, like a spotlight, and when she turned back, everything had changed again.


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**

"What are you doing back here?"

Korsak was gone, replaced by a younger dark-haired man in tight black pants and a vibrant shirt open to the waist. He had a Russian-sounding accent, looked a little familiar to Alex but... that's when she noticed what her own clothing had changed into.

"Oh you gotta be kidding me."

Every inch of her dress –and there wasn't a whole lot of it - was covered in sequins, sparkles and shimmery stuff. Thankfully there was some kind of skin-coloured material filling in the gaps, especially the plunging neckline, and there were tights of the same colour, though they were just as spangled. The heels were so high she didn't dare move in case she fell flat on her face, but the man didn't seem to care.

"You're telling me, sweetheart. No time! Come along, we're on!"

He grabbed Alex's hand and pulled her away through corridors filled with similarly bejewelled people, though she couldn't see her sister.

"Wait, what? Where are we going?"

The man threw her an impatient look over his shoulder.

"This is no time to develop amnesia, lovely! This is the dance-off!"

Alex's mouth dropped open in shock but her partner didn't even notice, hurrying her along through a set of double doors and Alex was instantly blinded by a dazzling spotlight directed right on her. There was the sound of thunderous applause, excited whooping from an unseen crowd and an amplified, disembodied voice announced;

"And here's our other couple; Alex and Dmitry!"

Alex's partner grabbed her round the waist, took one of her hands in his and, raising it above their heads, started to spin her round until she was dizzy.

The cheering from the audience reached a peak, then faded abruptly, replaced by a rhythmic clapping. Dmitry stopped spinning her and as Alex got her balance back, her vision cleared.

She was standing at the side of the dancefloor, lit up by a spotlight, and as she looked around, she saw where she was. The studio was constructed around the dancefloor, the audience on three sides and the musicians on the fourth. Three seated judges watched from behind a desk and the grinning, suited presenter strode out onto the middle of the floor.

"This is it, folks! The moment we've all been waiting for – the 'Dancing With The Stars' final! Are you ready for the dance-off between our lovely competing sisters?"

The audience whooped and hollered, whistling and stamping their feet.

Alex was frozen in horror.

"I have to dance – in front of all these people?"

Then the rest of his words caught up.

"Competing sisters?"

No sooner had the words left her mouth than she saw Tara.

Her sister was almost unrecognisable – her dress wasn't some spangly monstrosity like Alex's, but a slinky ankle-length red number with a slit up to her thigh. Tara's dark hair was combed out, straightened and shiny with a matching red rose behind her ear. Alex couldn't remember ever having seen her sister in heels, but Tara seemed perfectly comfortable in them as she and her partner – a blond man in a red-and-black striped shirt and black pants – tangoed out onto the floor.

Clearly, Tara had found a silver lining to being trapped in 'TV Land.'

The ensuing dance routine was sultry, sexy and, to Alex, utterly unbelievable. Tara didn't dance, not like this. Head-banging and crowd-surfing, maybe, but high-kicks that didn't involve her foot making contact with something's head? For most of the dance, Tara's eyes didn't leave her partner's face and they seemed utterly wrapped up in each other – although if Alex had recognised her sister's partner correctly, she was barking up the wrong tree there...

As the routine snapped to a halt, with Tara bent backwards over her partner's arm dramatically, the rose from her hair now between her teeth, the audience burst into rapturous applause, screaming and yelling.

"We have to follow _that_?" Alex's partner muttered to her, tightening his grip on her arm, as if sensing Alex's desire to bolt from the room.

Even the judges were on their feet, applauding and cheering and Alex realised even spending your whole life fighting monsters didn't prepare you for _this_.

Thankfully, she was saved from making a gigantic ass of herself in front of everyone in the room by the sudden appearance of another figure at the top of the stairs.

The spotlight leapt onto her immediately and Alex had never been more pleased to see someone in her life.

"Castiel!"

The angel made her way down the stairs, looking around in confusion. She appeared rather out of place in her tan trench coat, black knee-length skirt and deep blue blouse, not to mention she was probably the only female in the room not wearing stupidly high heels. Castiel had mentioned that her vessel, Jenny, had been on the way to a job interview when the possession had taken place, hence the rather formal clothing. Thankfully, she hadn't been in her doctor's scrubs at that time, or that might have made her even more conspicuous.

Alex pulled away from Dmitry, stumbling over to Castiel. Tara, looking slightly embarrassed, brushed herself down, handed the rose to her dancing partner, and joined her sister.

"Are you real?" Alex asked. "Or is this another trick?"

"It's me." Cassie took another look around the studio, pushing dark ringlets behind her ears. "What are you two doing?"

"Well, Tara just discovered it's true that the rhythm is gonna get you," Alex snarked, which didn't exactly clear things up.

The audience, annoyed at this intrusion, had begin to boo.

"You've been missing for days," Castiel replied, brow furrowing.

"So get us the hell out of here!"

Alex had had more than enough of this set-up. Even operating on her sister – who seemed to have made a miraculous recovery – hadn't been as terrifying as this.

Cassie reached out, fingers outstretched to touch both Winchesters' foreheads, presumably intending to 'zap' them away to safety, but before she could make contact, the angel vanished in a burst of static.

"Cassie?"

The show's presenter strode back onto the dance floor as the boos from the audience intensified.

"Ah, ah, ah," he remonstrated, waggling a finger. "Bringing in your own pet angel to help is cheating, ladies. The judges don't like that."

He swung an arm around to cover the three judges, all sitting stony-faced, holding up score cards that said '0'.

"And neither does our patron."

Another spotlight appeared, illuminating an enormous blown-up photograph on the wall. Naturally, it was the Trickster, dressed and made-up in so over-dramatic a fashion as to make the dancers look positively dowdy.

"So while we think about what we've done."

The presenter was still talking.

"Here's a word from our sponsors."

* * *

It shouldn't have been a surprise when the studio vanished, leaving everything but the Winchesters behind, but it still caught them out, especially when the noise and glamour of "Dancing With The Stars" was replaced by a locker room.

"Oh God, what now?" Tara's eyes went wide.

"Is this the shower scene from 'Carrie'?"

Alex had to admit that was a possibility. Their dresses were now gym kit and there were other young women milling about, chatting as they changed their clothes.

One of them came up to Alex and Tara, holding a colourful cardboard box in her hands.

"Don't you just hate how boring the packaging is on regular boxes of tampons?" she asked them, her manner as if they were friends, seemingly unaware of how bizarre her statement was.

The sisters recoiled.

"I'm sorry, what?!"

The girl half-turned away from them, facing what they supposed would have been the camera if this was a real commercial.

"I'm tired of buying tampons in plain boxes, like I should be ashamed of what I'm buying! But now that's all changed. These are so pretty, I buy them no matter what time of the month it is, don't you?"

She turned back to Alex and Tara, who were staring at her like she'd grown a second head.

"What did I tell you? Shower scene from 'Carrie.' They'll be throwing these things any minute now," Tara muttered.

The girl was frowning at them, jerking her head towards the imaginary camera/audience in a way that implied she was expecting them to do something.

Alex sighed. Then she plastered a big fake smile on her face.

"Sure! I love... this brand of... whatever."

The girl scowled, shoving the box at Alex and stomping off.

"What the hell was that?" Tara demanded.

"I think this is what we're supposed to do."

"What, sell tampons? Do I look like Courtney Cox?"

"No, I mean play along. Improvise. Not just dancing with pretty men in tight pants, but whatever scene the Trickster puts us in."

Tara looked around the locker room, disgustedly.

"Play along, huh? How long for?"

"Knowing the Trickster? For ever, probably. Or at least until she gets bored."

"So I guess we'd better be entertaining?"

"Well, now we know you can tango, should the situation ever call for it again."

"Shut up, Lexie."


	4. Chapter 4

**4.**

The lights in the locker room were fading, down to total blackout, and when they went up again, it was another TV studio. This time, instead of a dance competition, it looked more like a talk show; couches on a raised stage in front of another live audience. There were tasteful ferns all around, neutral colours and a large projection screen on the back wall, with the words "Mary and Betty" on in looping script.

Tara and Alex were standing at the side of the stage, flanked by security, while the hosts – two middle-aged women, one white, one black – addressed the overexcited audience.

"Are you ready for our special guests?" the white lady asked.

"We're ready, Betty!" the audience yelled back, in unison.

"Are you sure?" the African American woman followed up.

"Very, Mary!"

Clearly, this was the catchphrase of the show.

"Wasn't this what you were watching earlier?" Alex whispered, frowning.

Tara's face had broken into a broad smile.

"Oh wow!"

Alex rolled her eyes.

"Seriously?"

But the security men were ushering them forward, just as both women on stage announced their names. After the applause, whooping and whistling had died down, the sisters were directed into two chairs between the couches, facing the audience.

"So... Tara and Alexis Winchester." Betty looked them both over with mild disapproval. "You've had a busy year."

"And then some!" Mary added. "Have you ever had a quiet year?"

"These two?" Betty quipped. "Wouldn't know quiet if it hit them. You ever take time off?"

"Well, there was that year I went to Hell," Tara remarked dryly. "Didn't get a lot done then."

"Unlike you." Mary turned her attention to Alex.

"That was an... eventful time for you, wasn't it?"

Alex flinched, stunned into silence.

"What was the name of that demon you were shacking up with? You know, the one who got you hooked on demon blood, tricked you into freeing Lucifer?"

"I know who you mean," Alex replied icily. "You don't need to remind me of - all that."

"I'm not hearing a name," Betty sing-songed, waggling her finger at Alex like a twee kindergarten teacher.

"Rudy. His name was Rudy. He's dead now, by the way," Tara cut in. "We killed him. And Lillith."

"Too little, too late, if you ask me." Mary shook her head. "But that's not why we're here. Let's talk about something nicer. How are you doing, honey?"

"How am I doing?" Tara's eyebrows raised.

"Well, I got stuck in TV land by the same psychotic bitch who once spent a couple of months killing me over and over again in more inventive ways than an ACME cartoon character... So I guess I'm just peachy. Why do you ask?"

"Things have never been easy for you, have they?" The woman's tone was sympathetic as she focussed on Tara entirely, ignoring a fuming Alex.

"Losing your mother so young, your father leaving you all alone to look after your little sister, and then forcing you into the family business?"

"Hey, no." Tara was instantly defensive. "He did the best he could. What would you have done?"

"You think it's fair, forcing children to fight monsters? Putting all that responsibility on you?"

Tara got to her feet, holding back her anger.

"That's enough."

But the security men were behind her now, grabbing hold of her and pushing her back into the chair, another two stopping Alex from getting up.

"Not yet, honey," Mary told her, gesturing to someone off-set to bring on a trolley, covered in a sheet so its contents were hidden. "We're just getting to the good part."

The chairs the sisters were sitting in suddenly changed, restraints appearing on the legs and armrests and wrapping themselves around their wrists and ankles.

"What the hell?" Tara tried to struggle, but they were held fast. Alex twisted around to try and find another way out, but could see nothing remotely helpful.

Then, to whoops from the audience, the cover was whipped off the trolley, revealing the equipment underneath.

"This... this is not going to end well." Alex stared at the lie detector, trying to work out what the other equipment was. The security guards busied themselves attaching electrodes to the sisters, then wiring them up to the other machinery.

"Now, not to be cruel, but you two are well known for being a _little_ less than truthful sometimes," Betty was saying. "So we want to make sure you're being honest."

"And if you ain't," Mary cut in. "We'll know."

Tara and Alex stared at each other.

"What the hell? This is what we're supposed to play along with now?"

Alex shrugged.

"So long as I don't have to waltz or anything, I guess I'm okay with this."

"So, Alexis. You can go first."

Betty pulled out a series of cards, facing Alex.

"You brought on the Apocalypse, is that true?"

Alex's expression went from resigned to pissed in a millisecond.

"Seriously?"

The machine buzzed, then pinged and Alex felt a small jolt of electricity go through her.

"Ahh! What?!"

The audience cheered, applauding like crazy and Alex realised this wasn't just a talk show. Well, why would it be? The Trickster had built it specially for them.

"Better answer quickly, girls. And always be honest, or the shocks get worse!" Betty seemed quite pleased at the idea, almost as much as the baying audience.

"So... do you admit it?"

"Yeah, sure."

The older woman gave her a hard stare, and Alex yelped as another shock hit her.

"Yes, I brought on the Apocalypse! Happy now?"

"I don't think anybody's happy about that," Mary cut in. "Tell us why."

"Why?" Alex tried to think fast. "Um, I trusted the wrong people? Demon. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was wrong."

The audience was making a peculiar rumbling noise, disapproval radiating across the room, but Alex didn't get another shock.

"Hmm. Seems that's the truth," Mary said, glancing over the machine.

"So, Tara. Your turn."

Tara stared back at her, resentment simmering beneath her apparent stillness.

"How do you feel about that?"

"How do I feel? About the Apocalypse?"

"About your sister being the one who brought it on."

Tara was silent for a moment, and Alex winced in sympathy, but the anticipated shock didn't come.

"At first? Pissed. But then..."

Tara dropped her gaze down to the floor, then defiantly back up.

"Responsible."

A strange sound went through the room, a hushed whispering, but Tara wasn't done.

"I mean, she's my kid sister. I'm the one who's supposed to look out for her, and when I went away..."

"You mean, when you were in Hell? After you literally sold your soul to bring her back to life? And you still feel responsible?"

Alex was staring at her sister, open-mouthed, but Tara wouldn't look at her.

"Yeah, I do. Our parents are gone. All we got left is each other."

The audience burst into rapturous applause, but Mary and Betty were less impressed, turning back to Alex.

"And you chose a demon over this woman?"

Alex clenched her jaw.

"I didn't- ow!"

This time, the shock made her whole body jolt, pulling against the restraints.

"Ah, ah, ah." Betty waggled a finger.

"No lies."

"That wasn't how it was! I didn't - OW!"

"Stop it!" Tara was shouting, wrenching against her own bonds. "Stop hurting her!"

"She's hurting herself," the hosts told her, impassive. "If she was honest, she'd be fine."

"Okay, yes, I chose Rudy! I thought I was right, but I was wrong, and I screwed up!" Alex yelled. "I didn't know then, but that doesn't mean I don't know it's my fault!"

The room fell silent.

"You admit you let a demon seduce you into evil?" Mary asked.

"I thought that... If I could use the powers I'd been given, the exorcisms, for good ... then it would be okay. That the demon blood that was already in me... that I could control it, instead of it controlling me. That was all I wanted! To save people, free them from their possession. But-"

Alex shut her eyes, shame burning her cheeks red.

"It got away from me. I let Rudy manipulate me, and it all went so wrong. If I could take it back, I would."

"Take it back? The world's ending, honey, and that's your fault. Because you were weak."

"That's enough!" Tara's cry cut through the accusing words of the hosts. "What more do you want from her?"

"It's sweet that you're defending her, Tara, but she's not a kid anymore. You need to live your own life, not spend yours looking out for Alexis. Wouldn't everything have been better if she'd just never been born? I mean, your Mom would still be alive, wouldn't she?"

"That's not fair-" Tara began, but her own electric shock cut her off.

"Wouldn't she?" Mary pressed. "Your Dad, too. You'd have gotten to grow up in a real home, with a real family, if it wasn't for your baby sister."

Tara refused to answer, gritting her teeth as she received another shock, then another. The security guard behind Alex put his hand over her mouth, stopping her from protesting as Tara was shocked again and again. The hosts, and the audience leaned forward, watching intently as she fought against the pain, determined not to give in.

Then, as it looked like Tara was about to pass out, everything froze again, and the shocks stopped.

Tara slumped forward, exhausted and Alex wrestled her way out of the grip of the frozen security guard.

"Boy, you two really are masochists, aren't you?"

They turned to see the source of the voice. The Trickster was seated in the front row of the audience, eating popcorn and being fanned by several hunky young men in skin-tight swim trunks, like a classical queen.

"I mean, I could watch this all day, but we're getting nowhere, are we darlings?"

"How about you go screw yourself?" Tara threw at her. "This is _fun_ for you? Great! Tell us something we don't know."

The Trickster rolled her eyes.

"Come on, ladies! This is the lesson I've been trying to teach you, over and over. Play your part, and stop trying to save each other. It just ends in tears!"

She vanished, and then once more, everything changed.

* * *

Disclaimer: Nope, didn't invent Supernatural. I decided to make up a 'talk show' rather than adapt one, as I don't watch them.


	5. Chapter 5

**5.**

This time it was a house, a rather nice looking one, and they were alone; no Trickster, no audience. Their clothes had changed again; both were in low-riding jeans and brightly coloured, rather impractical skimpy tops that showed off their belly buttons, and also their anti-possession tattoos, which had morphed into Wiccan triquetras - a circle through three interconnected loops.

Tara and Alex looked around. A large, sunlit house, filled with rather antique looking furniture and, oddly, pictures of themselves.

"Uh, what the hell?"

Tara picked up a silver framed photo from a table in the hallway, shoving it toward Alex, who took it, frowning.

The picture had been taken in the house they were standing in, and in it, between the two of them, smiling broadly and holding a Siamese cat, was their dead half-sister, Adele Milligan.

"Well, that's creepy. What show can we be in now?"

"One where Adele's not dead?"

"Did I hear my name?"

The voice came from up the stairs, and they turned to see the girl herself, leaning down over the bannister.

"And who's dead?"

Taken aback, it took a moment for Tara and Alex to think of what to say.

"Uh, you are. Or, were."

Adele laughed, seeming much more carefree than when they'd met her before, although to be fair, that had been the ghoul who'd murdered her, rather than the girl herself.

"Who hasn't been, in this house? Come on, potion's nearly ready."

She skipped back up the stairs, leaving her half-sisters to blink back their surprise.

"Potion?" Tara echoed.

"I think I recognise this house."

Alex went over to the front door, picking up the mail on the floor. The letters were addressed to Tara, Alexis and Adele Halliwell.

"Yep. We're in 'Charmed'."

"Ugh, really? Witches?"

"Hey, at least in this world, the witches are the good guys. We won't have to deal with any gross hexes."

Then a lightbulb went off in Alex's brain.

"But magic will work in this place..."

She dashed off up the stairs, heading to the attic, where Adele was waiting for them, bottling an odd coloured, smoky liquid.

Ignoring the not-dead girl, Alex hurried over to the large book on a stand in the middle of the room, flipping through the pages.

"What are you looking for?"

"Summoning spell. We need to call an angel."

Adele frowned.

"You mean a Whitelighter?"

"No, I mean a real, old-school angel."

Tara caught up with them.

"Would the ritual from the real world work?"

Alex shrugged.

"Maybe. We can try that first. See what you can find."

"Why don't you just call Leo?" Adele asked, but her sisters ignored that.

"Look, I don't mean to be rude, but you're supposed to be dead, and while that ain't exactly unheard of for us, it does make talking to you a little weird," Tara said, rummaging through the witchcraft supplies for what she needed.

Adele pulled a face.

"What's the matter with you two?"

"Oh, don't get me started."

* * *

Tara placed a silver bowl on the table, drawing the Enochian symbols out in chalk while Alex searched for any other useful spells in the Halliwells's Book of Shadows.

Within a few minutes, Tara had finished, and ignited the bowl's contents.

"Where the hell are you, Cassie?"

There was a puff of smoke, but nothing else.

They waited, but there was only silence.

Then, downstairs, there was a terrible crashing noise, followed by smashing glass. Without a word, Tara and Alex raced back out, leaving a confused Adele behind.

"But... my potion?"

Back in the hallway, they were immensely relieved to see Castiel stumble toward them, although this was fairly short lived as they took in the state of her - bruised, with a cut above one eye, her clothes in disarray. There was broken furniture in the room she'd come out of, a shattered vase on the floor spilling water and roses everywhere.

"Woah! You okay?"

They hurried over to her side, supporting her arms. The angel nodded.

"I've been trying to get back to you, but... something's not right here."

"You think?" Tara snarked, but Cassie barely heard her.

"There's powerful magic in play, far more so than a Trickster should be able to use. She's been blocking me since I got here."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't think she's just a Trickster."

"Then what -?"

But before Alex could finish her question, the front door flew open, blown by a gust of hurricane strength wind that knocked them all off their feet, hurling them backwards across the polished floor.

Groaning, they tried to get up, only to be pinned down by an invisible force as the Trickster swanned in through the door, flanked by her swimsuit hunks, her hands in the air.

"Hello darlings," she said, her tone smugly triumphant.

"And Castiel, how nice to see you again! But I'm afraid you can't stay."

Cassie opened her mouth to say something, her expression outraged, but before she could say a word, she vanished in another puff of static.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Tara demanded, but Alex was more concerned with another puzzling question.

"Do you know each other? How do you know an angel?"

The Trickster ignored Alex.

"Relax, dear. Your pet isn't dead. I just didn't want her spoiling all the fun."

She waved her hands and the force holding them down disappeared.

"Enough, okay? This may be your idea of fun, but I've had it!" Tara struggled to her feet.

"We've played our roles, now let us out of here!"

"Ah, ah, ah." The Trickster shook her head. "That's only half the game."

"What?"

"You've played your roles in here. Now play them out there."

The sisters stared at her, not following.

"I swear, if I had a stake in my hand right now..." Tara muttered.

"Catch up, darlings. I mean your starring roles in the big celebrity death match. You know. Alex, starring as Lucifer. Tara, starring as Michael."

She gave them a big smile, and they gaped back, utterly confounded.

"You... you want us to say _yes?"_ Alex spluttered. "To bring on _the end of the world?_ "

"Well for a start, that ship has sailed, sweetheart. Your doing, yes, when you let Lucifer out of his cage?"

Alex fought the urge to throw something at her, clenching her fists.

"It can't be stopped; it's too late for that, so let's get it over with!"

She spread her hands in a theatrical gesture, striking a pose, but Tara was frowning at her.

"And then what? I mean, you picked a side, right? Which is it? God Squad, or I Love Lucifer?"

The Trickster's expression went from self-satisfaction to annoyance.

"What makes you think I care either way, dear?"

"This-" Tara gestured around them. "Makes it pretty clear you do. I mean, I'm flattered you'd go to so much trouble just to screw with us, but no. Someone's pulling your strings."

This time the Trickster's face was a picture of cold rage. She flung out a hand and Tara was slammed against the wall by the invisible force. The Trickster stalked closer, leaning in until she and Tara were nose to nose.

"Listen to me very closely, you little shit. Don't you ever, _ever_ presume to know me, or to know what I want. Now here's what's going to happen. You and your sister are going to step up, accept your responsibilities, and play the roles that destiny has chosen for you."

Alex edged towards them.

"And what if we don't?"

The dazzling smile was back on the Trickster's overly made-up face.

"Well, darlings, then you get stay here in TV Land, forever. Three hundred channels and nothing's on!"

She made a hand gesture to her underwear model flunkies and made to leave, but before she could, a shout came from the top of the stairs.

"The power of three shall set us free!"

Adele, forgotten by everyone, appeared in view and hurled a small glass bottle at the Trickster, who vanished in a puff of smoke.

But the smoke kept on spreading, filling the room and blinding the sisters, making them cough and choke. They dropped to their knees, crawling for the front door, but as soon as they made it outside, everything changed again.


	6. Chapter 6

**6.**

It was still sunny, but they were on a beach now, a beautiful sandy beach on a gorgeous day. As Tara and Alex looked around, they noticed it was not a normal day, but a crime scene; there was tape marking out a space around a dead body, and cops and crime scene investigators swarming the beach, although Adele was no longer with them.

"What the hell was all that about?" Tara demanded.

"I guess Adele was only with us cos that show needed three sisters..." Alex mused. "After she 'vanquished' the Trickster, she disappeared too."

"And all the other stuff? About us becoming angel vessels?"

"Who knows? Just means we have to find a new way out."

Alex looked over the crime scene, thoughtfully, then looked down at themselves.

"Not Rizzoli and Isles again. So who are we now?"

They were dressed more like themselves, still in jeans, but with plaid shirts, though Tara again sported a cop badge, while Alex was carrying a silver case, and her badge was different.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me!"

"What?" Tara glanced over the scene again, then back at Alex.

"This one of the CSIs?"

Alex showed her the ID badge, her face like thunder.

"Miami Police Department: Blood spatter pattern analyst?" Tara read out, puzzled. Then she realised, and burst into hysterical laughter.

"Oh my God! You're Dexter!"

"That's right, laugh it up." Alex was not amused.

"She made you the serial killer!"

"Guessing it was a coin flip to see which one of us got which sibling, _Debra_."

"No, I think she got this right." Tara was still shaking with laughter.

"We don't have to play our roles, anymore, but I can still kill you," Alex reminded her. "And I bet I could get away with it, too."

She looked over at the murder scene; carefully arranged, with dismembered limbs, and then the hand caught her attention, each nail painted a different colour.

"I remember this... The Ice Truck Killer."

"Yeah?" Tara was only half-listening, checking out the guys roller-blading past in tight shorts.

"Yeah. Turned out the guy was Dexter's brother... Do you think she's trying to tell us something?"

"Who, the Trickster? Nothing we want to hear."

"No, I mean bringing Adele into this, putting us in shows about siblings."

"She's just trying to hammer her point home. About Lucifer and Michael. I wouldn't waste any more time on it."

Tara's attention moved from to the crime scene, watching the cops and CSIs. Her eyes narrowed as she saw one of the technicians, standing a little back from the crowd, sucking on a lollipop.

"Alex. Check out the guy with the sweet tooth."

Her sister followed her gaze.

"You think she's hiding this time?"

"She was that Surgeon serial killer guy, before, right?"

Tara looked over the scene again, thinking fast.

"Let's try something different this time."

She walked over to the body, ducking under the tape, Alex following.

They were greeted by a Cuban man in a bright shirt, shades and a straw fedora hat.

"What've we got?" Tara asked, her eyes never stopping moving over the scene.

"Jogger called it in this morning. Clearly this is a step above your usual dump job; this is staged."

"Serial killer?" Alex asked.

"We don't say that until we got proof," Angel Batista replied, looking very serious.

"What do you think about the body? As it is."

Alex knelt by the scattered limbs. It wasn't quite how she remembered the TV show; the whole body was here, and there was a lot of blood from the slashed throat. Tara picked up a piece of driftwood, poking at the body while Alex examined the staged body parts.

"Any thoughts?" she asked the CSI technician behind them, the one sucking on the lollipop.

The man shrugged, taking a step forward.

"Never seen anything like this before."

"You sure about that?"

Tara pivoted, striking out with the sharp wood in her hand, coated in blood. She stabbed the CSI straight through the heart, and the man fell, dying. Everyone else recoiled in horror, except for Alex, who got up, tensing herself, and Batista, who started inexplicably laughing.

The sisters watched as the man changed before their eyes into a familiar looking woman.

"Oh, darlings. Ten out of ten for effort, but really? You need to do better than that."

"Okay." Tara threw the stick to Alex, who swiftly ran the Trickster through with it.

The woman looked outraged, then her expression became just annoyed.

"Clever girls."

She fell to the ground, and everything blurred into static.

When it cleared, Tara and Alex found that they were back in the warehouse, where it had all begun.

The Trickster lay dead at their feet, still impaled on the stake.

The sisters looked around; there was nothing else there.

"Is that it?" Tara asked.

Alex looked wary.

"Looks like it."

"But what about Cassie? Where's she?"

"How about we get out of here first, and try and find her later?"

"Okay."

Reluctantly, Tara followed her sister out of the warehouse, and they went back to the motel.

* * *

Tara paced, checking her phone for the millionth time.

"I'm worried, that's all," she said, in answer to her sister's unspoken criticism, accompanied by an eyeroll from Alex.

"What could the Trickster have done to her? To an angel?"

"Look, take a break, will you?"

Alex was working on her laptop, losing patience with Tara's antics.

"Go have a beer, or take a shower or something."

Tara tossed her phone down on the bed.

"Fine. But I'm still worried!"

When she got out the bathroom, her sister had vanished. That wasn't too weird; she could have gone for food, or ice, or just to stretch her legs. But her laptop was also gone, and there was some weird kind of speaker box in it's place.

"Alex?"

Tara went over to the door, checked outside. There was nobody there, and the car was empty.

Puzzled, and no less concerned, Tara went back inside, confronting the mysterious speaker box. She tapped it.

"Hello?"

There was a pause, then Alex's voice came through.

"Tara? That you?"

"Alex? Where are you?"

"Uh... I don't know."

Tara stared at the box, an extremely annoying realisation dawning on her.

"You know how we were just talking about Angels?"

"Oh, crap."

Alex's tone was just as annoyed.

"We didn't kill the Trickster, did we?"

"No, 'Charlie', we didn't. Question is, am I Lucy Liu, Cameron Diaz or Drew Barrymore? Or I guess it's more likely this is the TV series-"

"Not really the issue right now, is it?" Alex sounded more pissed off.

Tara picked up the speaker box; it was not plugged in, nor did it look technologically advanced enough to be using wi-fi.

"Are you in the box, or-?"

"Tara! Focus! We need to find the Trickster, and, I don't know, what else could kill her?"

And then another thought struck them both.

"I mean, she _is_ a Trickster, right?" Alex asked.

"I don't know," Tara replied, slowly. "Cassie said she was too powerful for a Trickster... So maybe not."

"Then what?"

"Did you see the way she and Cassie looked at each other? Like they knew each other."

"And she got pretty pissed when you asked which side she was on. You don't think... no. She couldn't be."


	7. Chapter 7

**7.**

Tara parked up in a quiet lot, placing the speaker box on the car bonnet while she made her preparations.

"You sure this is gonna work?" Alex's voice echoed around the lot.

"Any other suggestions, 'Charlie'?"

There was only a sigh in reply.

"Alright, then."

Tara took a deep breath, and yelled up at the sky.

"Come on, then! You win! We'll do it!"

For a moment, nothing.

Then, from nowhere, the Trickster appeared before them, the triumphant smirk back on her face.

"I knew you'd see sense eventually, darlings. Ready to go quietly?"

"When my sister is corporeal again, maybe," Tara snarked, jerking her head toward the speaker box.

The Trickster grinned.

"Just my little joke..."

And then Alex was climbing out of the car, stretching as if she'd literally been stuck in a box.

"Happy now?"

"One last question..."

Tara stared the Trickster down.

"Why didn't the stake kill you?"

The Trickster laughed, spreading her hands with a flourish like a magician.

"Well, I _am_ the Trickster, darling."

This time it was Tara's turn to smirk.

"Maybe."

The woman's eyes had begun to narrow in suspicion, but before she could do anything, Alex had flipped open the lighter in her hand, igniting it and throwing it down at the Trickster's feet, where a ring of flames leapt up around her.

"Maybe you were always an angel."

The Trickster stared back, bursting into incredulous laughter.

"Did I push you too far and send you completely round the bend, little one?"

But neither Winchester was laughing.

"Tell you what," Tara was the triumphant one now. "You just step out of the holy fire and we'll call it our mistake."

There was a long, angry silence.

Then the Trickster clicked her fingers, there was a final burst of static, and the three of them were back in the warehouse. But the flames remained.

Looking like she was chewing a wasp, the Trickster slow-clapped.

"Congratulations. You're not as dumb as you look after all. And Holy Oil? Wouldn't have expected you to be carrying that."

She looked the two hunters up and down.

"So... what did I do wrong?"

"Mostly, it was how easily you got rid of Cassie," Tara replied.

"But as well as that," Alex cut in. "It was the way you talked about Armageddon. You're connected to what's happening, and to us that always means family."

The Trickster curled one elegantly manicured hand into a fist.

"So who are you really?" Tara asked, enjoying the moment, the Trickster's impotent fury.

The Trickster's expression changed completely, for a moment there was an almost haunted look there, before she settled into sullen.

"Gabriel, okay?"

That did surprise the sisters.

"The archangel?" Alex asked, looking their prisoner up and down.

"Yes, actually," was the annoyed reply. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"I... don't know. How does an archangel become a trickster?"

The angel folded her arms, defiant.

"I chose to. My own private witness protection. I skipped out of heaven and decided to have a little fun. Till you two came along and screwed it all up."

"And what did Daddy say when you ran off and joined the pagans?" Tara asked.

"'Daddy' doesn't say anything about anything," Gabriel snapped, starting to pace inside her prison.

"Then why'd you leave?" Alex asked, genuinely curious.

"That's not a hard question," Tara snorted. "I mean, most angels are dicks. Can you imagine living with them?"

"You shut your mouth!" Gabriel hurled back, getting more and more angry.

"You don't know anything about my family. I love my father, my siblings. _Love_ them. But watching them turn on each other? Tear at each other's throats? I couldn't stand it! Okay? So I left. And now it's happening all over again!"

The three of them stared at each other, the sisters surprised at the level of reaction from the angel, who had so far seemed nothing but selfishness and gleeful spite.

Alex remembered the conversation they'd had earlier, about whether or not the Trickster would help them. Surely now they stood more chance of convincing her?

"So help us stop it."

Gabriel shook her head, convinced.  
"Can't be done."

"Oh, come on!" Tara threw up her hands in exasperation. " Do you _want_ to see the end of the world?"

"What I want is for it all to be over! Thanks to you two, I have to sit back and watch my own family kill each other! Heaven, hell, I don't care who wins, I just want it over and done."

Alex knew she was grasping at straws, but since when was that anything new?

"It doesn't have to be like that. There has to be some way to, to pull the plug."

Gabriel laughed, bitterly.

"You do _not_ know my family. What you guys call the apocalypse, I used to call Sunday dinner. That's why there's no stopping this, because this isn't about a war. It's about two siblings that loved each other and betrayed each other."

Gabriel rolled her eyes.

" You'd think _you'd_ be able to relate."

Alex was bewildered.  
"What are you talking about?"

"You. You two. Why do you think you're the vessels? Think about it. Michael, the eldest, loyal to an absent father, and Lucifer, the baby of the family, rebellious of Daddy's plan. You were born to this, ladies. It's your destiny! It was always you! As it is in heaven, so it must be on earth. One has to kill the other."

The Winchesters stared at her, glanced at each other, then back at their prisoner. She was looking smug again, but shot through with bitterness.

"Why do you think I've always taken such an interest in you? Because from the moment Daddy flipped on the lights around here, we knew it was all gonna end with you. Always."

Neither sister knew what to say to that. Silence filled the warehouse.

Then Tara shook her head.

"No. That's **not** gonna happen. No way."

Gabriel sighed, shaking her head.  
"I'm sorry. But it is."

She looked almost sad now, regretful.

"Look, I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow... but this is real, and it's gonna end bloody for all of us. It's not what any of us really want, but it's just how it has to be."

There wasn't anything for Tara to punch, except her sister or the imprisoned archangel, so she settled for picking up a stone from the ground and hurling it as hard as she could against the wall of the warehouse. It struck a metal panel, the sound of the impact echoing through the room, but it didn't really make her feel any better.

Alex was clenching and unclenching her fists, uselessly, neither of them willing to accept what the angel was saying.

Gabriel took a deep breath, exhaling heavily.

"So what now? Do we stare at each other for the rest of eternity? Such as it is."

Tara shoved away her frustration; this wasn't over yet. Couldn't be. _Wouldn't_ be.

"Well, first of all, you're gonna bring Cassie back from wherever you stashed her."

Gabriel cocked her head, defiant once more.  
"Oh?"  
"Yeah."

Tara directed all her anger at her prisoner.

"Or we dunk you in holy oil and deep-fry ourselves an archangel."

Gabriel ran her tongue around her teeth, resentful. But she knew she was trapped, and clicked her fingers.

Castiel appeared, looking startled and confused, but no more hurt than she had been earlier, to Tara's relief.

"Cassie, you okay?"

The angel shook herself, trying to regain her composure.  
"I'm fine."

She looked over at her angelic sibling.

"Hello, Gabriel."

The archangel had put on a brittle front, cold but not entirely covering her anger, nails tapping against her arm.

"Oh, hello darling. How's the search for Daddy going? Let me guess. Dreadful."

Cassie glared at her, but said nothing.

Tara, recognising that this would not end well in any outcome, started to walk away.  
"And we're done. Come on, Lexie."

Her sister joined her, and after a long exchange of stares with Gabriel, Cassie followed behind.

"Uh. Okay. Darlings?"

There was a pleading note in Gabriel's voice, and they turned back at the door. She gestured to the fire at her feet, surrounding her.  
"Are you just going to leave me here forever?

"Don't tempt me," Tara snapped back, but she put her hand on the fire alarm.

"And for the record? This isn't about some prize fight or destiny that can't be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family."

She pulled the alarm, setting off the sprinklers.

"Don't say I never did anything for you. _Darling_."

And they walked out, leaving the damp archangel to hope the fire would go out and release her.

* * *

Outside, the Impala was waiting for them, and the sisters got in gratefully. Castiel lingered a moment more, staring back at the warehouse.

Tara wondered briefly what the angel was thinking.

"All that stuff Gabriel came out with back there... you think it was the truth?

Alex considered this.

"I think she believes it. But as to what we do now? I don't know."

Tara blew out her breath, feeling the almost literal weight of the world pressing down on her.  
"Well I'll tell you one thing. Right about now I kind of wish I was back in a TV show."

Alex nodded, grimly serious.

"Yeah, me too."

There was a long silence.

Tara looked back over to Cassie, who raised a hand in farewell, then vanished.

Tara sighed, started the car, and they drove away.

Whatever the future, they couldn't run from it, would have to face it sooner or later. But... well. Something was bound to change. The world couldn't end like this. Could it?

* * *

Disclaimer: Still didn't create Supernatural!

So what did you think? Like my choices of shows, or no?

All reviews gratefully received!


End file.
